Tom’s new movie channel is up and running, and the first film that I watched there was quite a treat for me: the ten-hanky atmospheric tragic-love weep fest,Babul. In using the word “atmospheric,” I admit that I have been influenced by an interesting review at Cineplot, which describes “atmospheric lighting, especially during night scenes, creating hauntingly beautiful effects suggestive of German expressionism.” The cinematographer is Fali Mistry, whom Cineplot points out “was the guru of V. K. Murthy, Guru Dutt’s brilliant cinematographer.” And some readers might notice that I have commented on Mistry’s work just recently, while writing about Uran Khatola, where it is even more striking.

I have seen three films now with the specific combination of Fali Mistry, S.U. Sunny (the director), Dilip Kumar, and Naushad: Mela, Uran Khatola, and now Babul. And I can see a lot of similarities among these tragedies. However,I did not find Mela to be quite as compelling or well put together as the other two (though I understand that it is legendary, maybe because it was the first of these films, made in 1948), and it doesn’t contain quite the same amount (or intensity) of dark fantasy. Uran Khatola and Babul are similar in that regard, especially in the spectacular death (and going to heaven) scenes. Uran Khatola has much more fantasy to it overall, and sometimes I think I might I prefer Uran Khatola, because it has a few more original ingredients in the plot and setting. But Babul gets the edge in a couple of other ways, and I have to say that I was more moved by this film. In fact, I think that it should prove irresistible to anyone who likes to plunge into multi-hanky tragic love tales.

Babul probably gets that emotional edge because of the acting. I admit that I don’t consider myself to be a connoisseur of acting, and when it comes to Indian films, I don’t really concentrate as much on the acting as some people (partly because I am so often carried away with the music and/or the dance). However, even I am able to notice the superb acting in Babul. Of course, the main superb actor in this tragedy is Dilip Kumar. He is utterly believable and sometimes quite emotionally provocative in the role of the visiting stranger (i.e., the new postmaster) caught up in a triangle with a rich woman and a poor woman. The plot doesn’t sound like much (especially in terms of originality) and it isn’t. And there is a part of the film, when it gets deeply into the melodrama of the triangle, that could have turned awful if it hadn’t been done by more-than-competent actors. But Dilip seems, actually, to perform above his role.

Nargis does as a good a job as ever; she is a convincing actress, and she works out nicely in the role of the somewhat naive, poor village girl. (And I have to admit that, much as I like Nimmi, I was kind of glad we had Nargis doing this role instead.) Then there is Munawar Sulatana, who is great in this film! Her role as the rich woman (daughter of the zamindar) is interesting, too. At first, I expected her to be a villain, but instead, she turned out to be a very sympathetic as well as interestingly complicated. And Munawar was able to convey the different sides of this character very well. In fact, I was more impressed by her in Babul than by Nargis.

In addition to the acting and cinematography/atmosphere, there is a third major element in Babul that stands out, and that is the gorgeous music by Naushad! This composer simply amazes me, again and again. Some day, I will be able to get together the musical vocabulary to describe exactly why his soundtracks are so perfect. And just coincidentally, I have been listening to the soundtrack of Babul very frequently during the past couple of months. So, I have to say that the music in this film did not surprise me, because I already knew that I loved it.

If I were to do the more “traditional” kind of movie writeup with plot summary, etc., I don’t think I could this film justice. (Not that I am doing it full justice with this rather scattered and rushed writeup either, but anyway…) That’s because, just to reiterate, the plot in this movie is nothing to speak of. But I will grant that the sudden tragedy at the end was something I hadn’t quite seen before (though something somewhat similar happened in Mela), and it was sufficiently shocking. It was also foreshadowed nicely, especially in a dream scene. (By the way, in Babul, we get further proof – albeit briefly – that Awara did not contain the first Hindi film dream sequence.) But if you find yourself wondering why you have immensely enjoyed this movie (and crying certainly can be a form of enjoyment, especially when watching movies), then don’t look for the answer in the plot; look at the other, great things.
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P.S. Tom’s individual song clips of the film are great, too, as you can see (though there are some skips now and then, which I’m sure he could do nothing about)… Certainly, it is wonderful to have such clear pictures and English subtitles! But I was disappointed that he didn’t also post the other versions of the song “Chhod Babul Ka Ghar,” and so the only clip we get shows little more than a minute of this beautiful song, in the happy version. Personally, I think the sad version is incredible. There might be a good reason why he didn’t post that version, because seeing it might be a big spoiler. Yet, it also shows a part of the film that is the most fantastic (in all senses of the word). So, here is a combination of all the versions that I have found (there are actually a few clips of this combination up on YouTube). Enjoy it if you want to watch it (have a good cry, etc.), but don’t say that I didn’t give you a SPOLIER ALERT!

Interesting, I didn’t realize Chhode Babul Ka Ghar was truncated in the movie version I had. It goes on for another full minute. Thanks for pointing it out. I’m afraid I have no real excuse for not uploading the sad version other than after chopping up the movie into pieces for upload and preparing 10 songs from the movie (11, counting 2 songs performed consecutively, as in the movie), I was tired of all the work. That and I generally prefer the upbeat songs. Thanks also for the review of this fine film.

You’re welcome, Tom. The version I have on the soundtrack is more than three minutes long (and is limited to the “happy” version), so I also wondered if the song was truncated in that particular copy of the movie. I also considered that the album soundtrack version combined the different instances of the “happy” version, or that the song itself was split in the film but sort of put back together in the soundtrack. :)

And you’re welcome re. my reviewing it, too – actually, after I saw this film, I had to review it, as a favor to myself!

Ava, thanks for the information about the bhakti poets – their ideas and the sufis’ are so interesting! And you are very right about the end being unforgettable.

It’s interesting that you prefer the Uran Khatola soundtrack so much. I don’t have an independent copy of the Uran Khatola soundtrack to listen to, so I haven’t had as much exposure to it yet. Maybe I would feel the same if it grew on me the way the Babul soundtrack had a chance to grow.

I am trying to think of what the main differences between the soundtracks are… Maybe I’ll go listen to the Uran Khatola soundtrack a little more. The biggest difference I can think of right now is that the Uran Khatola soundtrack has a lot more Lata and Rafi and the Babul soundtrack has more Shamshad Begum and Talat Mehmood. Of course, Uran Khatola came out five years later; that’s probably the main reason for that.

Babul! The very name sounds so tragic! I have seen this as a kid, but can’t remember anything about it except for its splendid music by Naushad.
It is on songs of Babul that I grew up on. I was born twenty years afterwards, but somehow these were the songs that really formed those years than the contemporary ones.
Moreover it is always funny to watch Nargis dance. Poor thing, she didn’t inherit those dancing genes from her mother (or did she only sing?).
I don’t really have a great wish to watch this movie, but your write-up is highly seductive!

My favorite song, at least the one I listen to often, is ‘milte hu ankhen…’. I have this impression that some of the women singers’ voices were metallic those days. Then they changed to more smooth ones and for a time to somewhat shrill ones. Was there some change in fashions, attitudes etc or is it just my impression?

Ha! Richard, one swipe at me and my continued belief that Awara had the first ‘song’ dream sequence. :) I remember seeing Babul a long time ago, and wanting to smack Nargis. (Much like I always want to smack poor Nimmi for gloaming around after men who haven’t shown the slightest interest in her!) I agree with you, both about the songs, and about Dilip – he was so intense in this film.

But like Ava, I must admit to preferring some of the songs in Udan Khatola to some of the songs in Babul.

I laughed so much at ‘the ten-hanky weep fest’. It’s such an apt description of this film.

@harvey – LOL at Nargis not inheriting dancing genes – but then, I don’t think she had any dancing genes to inherit.

So, I see Ava and Anu agreeing that the Uran Khatola songs are better at least sometimes and Harvey talking about how significant the Babul songs were to him. Well, I’ll have to spend more time on this comparison to make any decision myself. Maybe I should find some place where I can get the Uran Khatola soundtrack to listen to on the portable player too.

Ava, some of the Babul song lines seemed pretty poetic to me too, but being that I am very Hindi challenged, I don’t know if I can even make those comparisons the way you can, because I have to depend on subtitles. Your translations do make the songs look good… I like “The stars decorate the sky, but you did not come.” Meanwhile, my DVD subs read, “The stars are shining bright and you haven’t turned up.” I am going to have to keep making time to study my “Learn Hindi” books, no matter busy I am, so that I don’t always have to depend on these things. :)

Harvey, thanks for the comment about my writing being “seductive.” :) Regarding Nargis and her dancing – or non-dancing, yes, indeed. But I think her mother, Jaddan Bai, was just famous for her singing; I haven’t seen any comment anywhere about her dancing, though I guess that was supposed to be part of her trade.

Anu, I wasn’t just “taking a swipe” at you for the idea that Awara had the first dream sequence (song) and, actually, I’d forgotten that it was you who’d said that in a conversation somewhere sometime back. I just happened to pick up the Shemaroo DVD of Awara (somebody in Jackson Heights sold it to me for one dollar!), and it says in the copy on the back of the case, “The first dream sequence in Hindi cinema…” Of course, I’ve also already pointed out a dream sequence from the mid ’40s, from a song in the 1945 or ’47 version of Meera :) … So anyway, I don’t blame you for this myth. I think Harvey’s right and it’s the fault of RK’s publicists for spreading this false information (which would eventually be picked up by Shemaroo, etc.).

Moving along, I am very happy to see that you liked my description, the “ten-hanky weep fest.” And agreed about Dilip’s intensity… However, I had no desire to smack Nargis in this film or Nimmi in Uran Khatola. From a male perspective, there were moments when I wanted to smack Dilip out of jealousy (the Jeevan Reaction), but not really, because I knew he would be very miserable at the end. Though for some reason, I would prefer to be pined after by Nimmi in any of these Golden Age films than by Nargis. (Actually, I know the reason – it’s all about their looks, sorry if that’s a bit shallow.)

Swarup, yes, “Milte Hi Ankhen Dil” was good too. Since I left it out of the post, here it is:

By the way, the female singer in most of the songs here is Shamshad Begum. Do you think she sounds “metallic”? That’s interesting; I haven’t heard that before. I consider the ’40s and early ’50s to be a time when the female singers were very diverse. Then Lata took over… I think that’s where a fashion for “shrillness” might have started. Though that’s not to slight Lata, who was really great when she was at her best, back in the day.

Richard,
Thanks. Bhanumati also sounds metallic to me. For me, the sweet voices are those of Rao Balasaraswati Devi and Geeta Roy. I did not mean that others are not attractive voices, I just used metallic for lack of a suitable word.
I think Jaddanbai must have danced some since it was part of the traditional baijee’s profession. There is one reference of her refusal to dance

Swarup, thanks for the link. Yes, dancing was part of Jaddan Bai’s profession, but I gather that it was not the source of her fame, as only her singing was. In the article you referred to at Moments of Tranquility (which I should visit more often, via the link in my side bar :) ), it said that she refused to dance on a moving platform. I am not sure if that indicated a refusal to dance altogether. I imagine, though, that once she became so famous for her singing, she didn’t really have to dance at all if she didn’t want to.

Pacifist, you are welcome, and thank you for the nice words about this review. The song that might make me consider that maybe the soundtrack to Uran Khatola is better is the one I posted before, “O Door Ke Musafir.” I admit, I wouldn’t have thought of “Mera Salam Leja,” but, yes, that certainly is a nice one, and a fun scene.

I like the idea of ultimately putting these soundtracks in different categories.

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